


Bison Hunting and Other Assorted Activities

by maxfornication



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB terms for Kieran's junk, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dutch isnt transphobic its just 1899, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rarepair, Trans Kieran Duffy, Trans Male Character, Trans Porn Written By A Trans Man, Unsafe Methods Of Binding, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxfornication/pseuds/maxfornication
Summary: That side mission where Charles and Arthur go bison hunting, but Arthur is busy so Kieran comes along instead. Awkward sexy times and accidental outings ensue.
Relationships: Kieran Duffy/Charles Smith
Kudos: 10





	1. The Only Other Choice

**Author's Note:**

> damn my first ever officially published fic,,,,, mega apologies to those who somehow found me off instagram and apologies to those who found me on instagram. smutty stuff starts in the last chapter
> 
> also kieran has no beard because testosterone shots? in 1899?? who?????

And it was midday already. The sun was central in the sky and there was no sign of Arthur, not at all. Charles shouldn't be too disappointed or surprised anyway, the Western-born man hadn't been back at the camp in it at least three days now. Probably scouting out around the neighbouring states, everyone assumed. 

"Dutch?" The partly Native man called out, walking over to said man's tent. 

"Mr. Smith, I owe the pleasure. Everything alright?" The expected man replied simply, lowering down that read and re-read book he had been clutching since they migrated down to Horseshoe Overlook. There was that same, perhaps, opera recording was playing from the gramophone and Molly, with her ever miserable expression, was fixed to a pocket mirror whilst fixing her curls.

"Have you seen Arthur? At all?" Charles knew there was going to be a disappointing reply to disappoint his spirits even more but he thought he should cling onto any hope he could muster.

"Not even a vision, son. I assume he's working his ass off all over The Heartlands to retrieve those loans Mr. Strauss set out. Poor ol' abandons. Why?"

"I expected. It's been nothing but rain for past week, now's perfect bison-hunting weather. Can't take on one by myself, I was hoping he would be back by now to help."

The older man didn't seem all too worried or caught over Charles' misfortune, he reclined a little. "Is there not someone else who can ride with you?"

Charles gave out a small sigh, listing the dead-end possibilities from his head. "Hosea's out by Emerald Ranch, Lenny and Javier are on camp lookout, John's working on the plans for that train job, Bill and Uncle are somehow both drunk already, and in the nicest way possible, I'm not keen on working with Micah unless I have too. I don't believe the women are up for it either."

Molly scoffed in agreement, not even offering a glance to him. "You got that damn right."

Dutch only mustered a 'hm' in additional agreement. It was then that the man glanced over Charles' shoulder, a thoughtful raise of the eyebrow, leading the Native man to follow his gaze, over to a figure scrubbing a cloth on one of the camp tables.

Kieran Duffy. That O'Driscoll boy they had kidnapped for interrogation and practically torture back up in the Grizzlies West. It had only been a week since he'd been freed from his place tied to a tree, and he was nervier than a herd of deer.

Dutch inquired with a chuckle. "What about our resident O'Driscoll over there?"

"Anything but."

"What, because he's an O'Driscoll?" The older man added playfully, a false set of taken-offense in his tone.

Charles took another glance at the boyish man. "No. Partly, I guess. But he's too skinny. Hardly any muscle, he doesn't look like he weighs more than a child. I doubt he knows how to hunt, either."

"Hardly a man." Dutch raised his eyebrows, almost like he was adding to a point Charles had no idea of. "Well, if you want to catch those bison on a prime day. It'd do us a favour, too, give us all a break from his incessant skulking around. He's like a weasel around trash, far too sneaky."

And that was set then. There was enough meat and pelt from one single bison to feed every member of the camp, even one's horns could be used for crafting; Charles didn't like wasting unnecessarily. The Native man sighed once again before turning and pacing over to the short former O'Driscoll. "Kieran."

Just as expected, the half Irishman yelped in surprise at the towering man in front of him. "Sir!" This was the first time the reserved man had spoken to him, despite all that time they had spent up in Colter with Kieran tied in the stables. He had been to afraid to even ask the man for food, or even a little sympathy. Not like the others weren't absolutely terrifying, but Charles was frightening in his own silent way.

"Unhitch you horse and ride with me." Was all the taller man said, turning immediately to his own horse, a Blanket-coated Appaloosa, Kieran had noted. The half Irishman didn't even think about disobeying, just following the man's orders and hoisting himself up onto Branwen whilst patting her. 

The ride was completely quiet except for the quiet grunts of the men's horses, galloping, livestock and other various natural sounds. Kieran's eyes were still wide with a skittish fear. Was he going to die? Was Charles taking him out so they could easily rid of his remains? What if he was going to leave out here so Colm could come get him? All these thoughts distracted the boy too much as Charles was silently observing him. By that point he had already realised how he really thought about the boy. He was cute. Yes, a buffoon, as Arthur had described him as, but gentle and he cared more for any horse he came across than himself. Charles admired that.

They arrived to a halt by the Native man's commands up the hills off to the side of the centre of The Heartlands, not too far away from the nearby town of Valentine. "I-I ain't meaning to annoy you or anythin'- mister- but you're gonna leave me out here, ain't you?" Kieran voiced, panicked and stuttering.

"What?"

"You're gonna leave me out here for Colm to find, ai-ai-ain't you? You're gonna leave me out here- and-"

"I brought you out to hunt bison." Charles replied calmly, if not a little judgementally toned.

Kieran paused for a while, pursing his lips awkwardly. "Oh.. Well now I just feel stupid.." He mumbled with wide eyes, his gaze fixed to floor.

The taller man held back a smile. "It's fine, really."

They both sat out there for a while, letting their respective horses rest as high noon turned into the afternoon. No sign of bison anywhere. Kieran fidgeted, scratching a little at the space beneath his chest and his back occasionally. "I- I gotta pee."

"What?" Charles almost laughed, lowering his pair of binoculars. 

Kieran huffed, furrowing his eyebrows. "None of you'll let me take on step outta camp and I really ain't keen on letting others watch.. Look at me, what am I gonna do outta your sight for two minutes? C'mon.." 

The Native man listened to his reasonings, silently agreeing with each point. "If you must." He excused, watching Kieran immediately hop up, still scratching subtly at his chest as he left over another small hill.

He'd been around ten minutes now. Charles knew there was no way a feller so scrawny would have the stamina to sprint all the way to Valentine, and Branwen was still here. O'Driscolls weren't quiet, either; he would've heard the commotion if they had tried to steal away Kieran. But no casual bathroom break realistically takes this long. "Hey, Kieran." Charles called out slightly. "Kieran?" He pushed up the hill to where a few large rocks lay. Kieran was hunched over, his back turned and his shirt tails untucked and his shirt clearly unbuttoned.

"Kieran." Charles repeated one more time to meet his startled, terrified expression, partly-removed shirt and the hastily wrapped bandages covering his almost flat chest.

The what?


	2. Oh, Shit

"Oh, shit." Was all Kieran could worriedly muster as he practically jumped back, covering his chest with his arms, his cheeks burning with shame, embarrassment, and well, he had been caught. Caught changing but also caught.. like /this/. That's it, Charles is gonna kill him, if his parents didn't understand then there's no way a gang of cowboys would.

Charles looked startled, a surprising expression for a man with his personality. "You're injured? Shit," He echoed, walking over to the trembling former O'Driscoll and kneeling. "Let me see, I can help,"

This was the worst thing that's ever happened to the half Irishman. "N-No, no, that ain't it-" he replied in a panicked voice, his hands still defiantly covering up his chest from the Native man.

Charles sighed in mild frustration, taking hold of both of short man's wrists. "Move your hands, the wound'll only get infected if you just wrap it up with banda-... -ges."

Well, at least the incessant and over-use of wrappings in place wasn't due to some grave injury. No, there was definitely no wound, but there was somewhat a lump of a chest where the usual flat space was. Not a large bust, but identifiable. .."You're a... woman?" Charles answered calmly and confused.

Kieran was quick to almost jump to his feet, but fell back in the process, whimpering. He looked like could cry any second. Not only had he been caught binding his chest, he had been outed doing so. It was /Charles/ as well. Possibly the smartest man in the camp. Definitely the smartest man in the camp. If it were anyone else, by God, he could've passed it off as an injury or just extra layering from the cold without them caring. Well except for Mary Beth. She would care. She was always nice to him, the half Irishman had thought. He just wished he'd be killed already and not have to suffer more with being accused of crossdressing.

"No! No, it ain't, it ain't like that- oh, God." Kieran covered up his face with his shaking hands instead. They both sat like that for a long moment, the Native man gazing at the half Irishman with a concerned look and the half Irishman terrified for his life. "..Can.. Can y'just kill me already, if you're gonna do it, sir?" Even while his fate in the eyes, Kieran was respectable with the taller man.

"What? I'm not going to kill you, just.. I'm confused. I thought you were-"

"I am a man!" Kieran instinctively interrupted, removing his hands from his face. Now if he wasn't already dead, shouting at a camp member was going to kill him first.  
"I just.. You ever, er, heard o-of Harry Allen? J-Joseph Lobdell? Milton Matson?" The shorter man desperately listed, still just too scared to meet eyes with Charles.

Charles thought for a good second before recalling newspapers he had read. "Women convicted for wearing men's clothes?"

"No, it ain't that either! There ain't a word for it, I don't think.. I just.. I ain't feel like a woman. Never have. I-I didn't even feel like a girl. I don't wanna be seen as a girl, o-o-or a woman. None of that. Makes me feel sick. Not 'cause there's anything wrong with women! They're fine! Nicer than most men I've met, at least. But it just ain't me, y'know? Those gunslingers, the ones like me. They don't wanna live like women, either. I wanna be a man- I- I am a man!.. The bandages hide my chest.. kinda.." 

That was all a lot for Charles to take in. Yes, he'd heard of those gunslingers and outlaws in the papers, all labeled as women. But what Kieran was confessing somewhat made sense to him. They sat like that for a while in silence before Charles sat beside him, Kieran rearing a little in worry before relaxing just the slightest. The sun was slowly heading down the hills now, painting the sky in magenta and orange clouds. It was a pretty sight, interrupted by the odd small herd of Pronghorn doe scampering over the hillside.

Kieran spoke up himself for the first time in a week, sighing defeatedly. "Dutch knows. A-And Arthur. Bill, too. Well, they know, but they don't understand. They were just real confused. Y'know, when they threatened to castrate me when I was still to that tree. I wanted to die, right then- I-I was prayin' that they'd give the sympathy for my death. Didn't kill me though."

"I'm glad." Charles echoed the sigh, his legs crossed. "I don't think any less of you."

The half Irishman froze before glancing up, his eyes wet with tears again. God, how embarrassing. But Kieran had been waiting to hear those words for the entirety of his twenty four years of life. Not from his loving parents when he was young, not when he was getting hurled insults on the street when he still looked womanly in his teenage years, not even from his closest- well, he's never had a true friend. And any person he'd trust, he couldn't tell anyway. But hearing those words from Charles made something click in his brain, like a switch to it's other side. Kieran had realized something he'd been hiding in the back of his head for weeks now, something he'd immediately shun from his thoughts if it were ever to cross his mind. The only man in the gang that hadn't completely treated him like horse shit, besides the ignoring and everything. He liked him. A lot.

Kieran leaned up to the taller man, pressing a kiss he hadn't even thought about to the other's lips.


	3. Returned

Charles returned the unexpected kiss with much more experience (though truth be told, he'd only kissed a woman once on a drunken high), closing his eyes as he pushed back the half Irishman against the gathering of rocks for a little more privacy from both Taima, Branwen, and the fact they were only a little off from a main road; it was nearing dark now anyway. This was all a little too overwhelming for the former O'Driscoll, his brain almost shortcutting from surprise, and God damn was this man in front of him hot. And also for the fact this was the first time his feelings had ever been reciprocated. Ever. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-" 

Charles blinked, going to pull away before Kieran pulled him back into the kiss, murmuring a quick and almost desperate "it's fine, it's fine-" And so it continued, the former O'Driscoll pressing himself up against the Native man, not too dissimilar from a dog in heat. It was hot, yes, but cute, too. At least to the taller man.

A few fingers danced around the hem of Kieran's worn blue ranch-jeans and he trembled even from the slightest touch. "Can I?" The Native man asked in the rare space where Kieran wasn't on his mouth. The shorter man didn't even voice his desperation, he just frantically nodded, huffing. Never in a million years did the former O'Driscoll think he would let someone else see him vulnerable and desperate like that, especially with a member of the Van der Linde gang; well, besides the unwarranted meeting he had with those gelding tongs, Dutch, Arthur, and Bill a week ago during his interrogation. Never had he ever been so glad to not have balls, as that pain may have been worse than any accidental outing imaginable.

Charles tugged down the half Irishman's ranch-jeans to at least his calves, Kieran thought, though he was too preoccupied with keening against the other man in desperation. The Native man worked through another layer as he pulled the lower set of Kieran's union suit (he had likely customized it to be able to bind his chest flat) down his pale thighs. Well, the former O'Driscoll wasn't lying about being born in the wrong body, Charles thought as he gazed at the smaller man's flushed, slightly glistening folds that were situated between his inner thighs. It was pretty to the Native man.

"I'm not going to penetrate." Charles gave the shorter man a reassuring glance. "I'm sure you wouldn't want pregnancy as much neither of us can afford for that to happen."

"Oh God no-" Kieran practically shivered at the thought, grimacing. He didn't /hate/ kids. He didn't even hate that boy at camp, Jack, despite the fact that he made it an irregular habit to throw rocks at him. No, he didn't hate kids, he just hated the natural assumed femininity of pregnancy. That surely wouldn't help his case to keep his profile as a man. "Err, thanks, I mean, but- w-wait, out here, maybe this ain't such a- don't you want me to?-" Kieran stammered with slight concern, but he didn't get finish before seeing stars.

The Native man had made direct contact with the smaller man's genitalia, and that meant his tongue was working softly in the crease of Kieran's cunt. "Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph-" The half Irishman muttered breathlessly as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes tightly. Kieran wasn't a religious man whatsoever, but the way Charles was working down there was godly. Even the way he gave head was gentle, but by whatever God there was, he was good at it. He lightly flicked his tongue on occasion, but slowly and carefully made his way down to Kieran's entrance, lightly probing his opening. It made the Irishman flush red all over, his body trembling under the pleasure. He slipped his tongue in at one point, the muscle moving in every which way to please the smaller man, before he pulled away slightly to lap away at the residual fluids and slick there. He migrated up to his clit, too, though not applying too much pressure as to make sure Kieran was comfortable. The noises were embarrassing to Kieran, but the sounds of the Native man licking and mouthing at his folds were almost drowned out by the half Irishman's moans.

Charles was still watching Kieran's face throughout his endeavours, watching the man squirm, sigh and mewl breathlessly, a little overwhelmed but in the best way. The Native man sped up his ministrations to guide the smaller man through his climax, keeping his tongue to his slit and flicking up, all while gently toying with his little bead.

Kieran almost squealed as he reached his orgasm point, his body spasming slightly and trembling as he collapsed back with exhaustion, his hands over his head. Charles paced away for a second during the shorter man's afterglow, only to return with the bedroll that had been stored on Taima. He unrolled it to lay it over the half Irishman's lower half. "Thought you wouldn't wanted to dress straight away. I wouldn't if I were you." Charles seemed so casual in the way he suggested, as if he hadn't just been between the other man's leg a minute ago. 

"Th-..anks.." Kieran huffed out, weak all over. "D-Don't you want me to.. do you?"

"I'm fine, it was enjoyable just to watch you." Charles chuckled, a rare sight for anyone to see, let alone a former O'Driscoll. Kieran's heart immediately flooded with just that, his cheeks growing scarlet. 

"I like you." The half Irishman blurted out without a proper thought process. Charles observed him with a small smile.

"I assumed."

Kieran covered his face with great embarrassment. "A-A-And you don't, do you? Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say- I-"

"I like you too, Kieran."

With their confessions both out of the way, the former O'Driscoll smiled, the first proper genuine smile he'd felt tug at the corners of his mouth in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh thanks for reading this hellfuck trashfire of a first fic. describing junk absolutely embarrasses me down to my cells so i am so sorry how awkward the descriptions are  
> and folks do NOT bind with bandages and avoid fucking with a binder on. that shit hurt.


End file.
